


grapefruit

by Alyene



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, But hes still a dick, F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Post-War, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, also snape is still alive, and basically after the war ended everyone spent like a year or so rebuilding Hogwarts, basically redeemed slytherins, but now they've returned, except the soulmate marks are random and you can have more than one, one-sided blaise/hermione, so basically everyone is very confused, unbeta'd or however you spell that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2018-12-21 00:03:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11932119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alyene/pseuds/Alyene
Summary: Study sessions, NEWTS, Christmas parties, and unrequited love.Or:Hogwarts Eighth Year and Soulmate AU (along with a bunch of other cliches)





	1. and so it begins

**Author's Note:**

> finally, a happy (ish) fic.
> 
> I made up some spells and stuff like that, also I like to use a shit ton of commas.

__

“What do you mean you’re not going back?” Hermione demanded, brown eyes narrowing as she waved the letter in front of Harry’s face. “We haven’t taken our NEWTS yet!”

 

Meanwhile, Ron sat on the newly-bought couch behind Hermione, sending a look to Harry that clearly said ‘ _ sorry, mate’ _ . 

 

“Yeah, but,” Harry started to say, wincing at the death glare being sent in his direction. “I mean… I just... “

 

“Harry James Potter,” Hermione said, louder this time. “You are severely underestimating the importance of our studies! You should be  _ glad _ McGonagall is even giving us this chance! I mean, I thought we would never take our NEWTS!” She flailed her arms dramatically.

 

“Hermione, look, the NEWTS are important to  _ you,  _ ok? We’ve talked about this for hours now. I am  _ not  _ going back.”

 

-

 

Five days later, Harry found himself sitting in the third compartment on the Hogwarts Express, on the way back for his eight year. He ran his hands over the seats, feeling the familiar smooth, but slightly bumpy material. A look out the window showed that the train was just passing into Scotland.

 

Hermione left to go to the bathroom with Ginny, leaving Ron and Harry alone in the small compartment.

 

“Tough luck, mate, you know arguing with Hermione never results in anything besides her winning,” Ron said, sympathetically.

 

“You would know, huh?,” Harry teased, however, grin waning as he thought about Hedwig not accompanying him this year. “It was worth a shot I suppose. After all, Kingsley did say that both of us could become aurors without the necessary NEWT scores.”

 

“Yeah. I don’t know…”

 

“What?”

 

“I just, I mean, I know I said I wanted to be an auror back in fourth and fifth year, but now, I’ve been thinking of doing something else. Calmer, maybe.”

 

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. So, er, how’s Ginny?”

 

Ron raised an eyebrow. “After you practically broke her heart during the war because you guys weren’t soulmates? You really want to have that talk, right now?”

 

“Uh, guess not? Although - to be fair, we still, technically, _ could  _ be soulmates. You never -” 

 

The two of them were interrupted by the familiar tinker of the snack trolley.

 

“Oh, thank god!” Ron groaned. “I thought I would die from starvation!”   
  


Hermione and Ginny chose that moment to walk back in.

 

“Ron, didn’t you eat seven of Mom’s apple turnovers this morning?” Ginny asked, as she slid the glass door shut behind her. 

 

“Suill! Tat us ober an how-er agro!” Ron said, mouth full of pastry.

 

Hermione sighed. “How many times do I have to tell you? Don’t eat with your mouth open! And even better - maybe  _ pace  _ yourself a bit, and save some food for this rest of us!” she exclaimed as she reached over Ron to grab a chocolate frog. 

 

Ginny sat beside Harry. There was a residue of tension between them, after finding out the universe apparently thought they weren’t qualified as a good match, at least, not yet. Harry sometimes stared at the matching black hooks on Hermione and Ron’s collarbones, and had to admit, he was  _ a little  _ jealous of it at times. After all, it wasn’t everyday that you found out you had a potential soulmate.

 

Of course, just having the mark didn’t mean the relationship would turn out well. It just meant that it had a great chance of that - which was shown clearly every time Harry accidentally walked on Hermione and Ron making out in some empty room. Or the time he walked in on Hermione sitting on - 

 

_ Do not think about that. DO NOT think about that,  _ he reminded himself.

 

(Ginny was very confused as she saw Harry’s face fill with both regret and disgust for a millisecond. Later, she decided she must’ve imagined it.)

 

The four of them chattered aimlessly for the rest of the ride, before changing into their robes and leaving, Harry looking disdainfully at the heavy rain overhead, feeling too lazy to actually take his wand out and cast a rain-blocking spell.

 

“Eighth Years o’er here!” a familiar voice boomed.

 

“Hagrid!” Harry said, turning around quickly. 

 

“Guess I’ll see you later, then…” Ginny muttered, before running off to join Luna and the other Seventh Years.

 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione hurried towards Hagrid, who was beaming at them. “If it isn’t the trio! Back again, huh?” Hagrid bent down slightly, and raised an eyebrow at Harry and Ron, whispering, “Did Hermione here force you to come?”

 

Ron laughed loudly, as Hermione slapped his shoulder playfully, smiling as well.

 

They stopped grinning as they saw a girl, standing awkwardly to the side.

 

Ron opened his mouth, as if he were about to say something, before closing it. “Parkinson,” he finally gritted out, albeit a little forcefully. 

 

“Weasley,” she said back, head dipping down. Then - “Granger, Potter” were muttered, as she nodded her head towards each of them before taking a step backwards.

 

The three of them had already knew that she, along with a few others, were back for their eighth year. Anyone that had supported Voldemort during the War that faced Azkaban had a choice - either spend a lifetime in jail, or go back to Hogwarts under extreme supervision, have limited wand use for at least ten years, and do extra community service all year round (which basically translated to helping rebuild certain areas of Hogwarts). Needless to say, everyone offered the choices took the latter. The Daily Prophet had issued a whole ten-page article on it, in which various people voiced their (negative) opinions about the topic. Harry himself, in fact, was asked about it, but had decided to stay quiet.

 

“After all,” he had said. “The War is over.”

 

-

 

The students (Harry counted twelve, including himself) trailed behind each other apprehensively in Hogwarts. It seemed that no one was too excited to revisit the location of the final battle.

 

They walked into a corridor, where Mcgonagall was residing. “Good, good,” she exclaimed as she saw each of them. “I do believe everyone is here. Now - I would first like to mention, that you are eighth years. That means I expect  _ heightened  _ behaviour from each of you. Secondly, you will not be living with your current house this year, and instead, the eighth years will be living in a separate wing, something that will be revealed to you after dinner. Now, off you go, to the Great Hall. And remember what I said before -  _ best behaviour!” _

 

As Harry started to move, she put her arms out, and he leaned into her for a hug. Her eyes turned a little softer, and Harry knew she must’ve been thinking of the War.

 

-

 

There was one table for the twelve of them. Everyone lingered around a bit, before Blaise decided to just sit down on the left end. Malfoy and Parkinson glanced at each other, before sitting down too, although warily, as if they expected the table to combust when they touched it. 

 

The other nine people, stared at them, then, the few over on the left side (aka Padma and Parvati Patil) edged their way to the right side and sat down, repeatedly glancing to Slytherins.

 

“Oh, honestly,” Hermione sighed, as sat down right next to Parkinson. Ron looked like he had just eaten a bitter lemon, but he and Harry moved towards Hermione’s direction and sat down as well. Following them, came Tracey and Neville. The Patils looked uncomfortable, but they too moved a little closer. Hannah tentatively sat next to Neville, and the two of them gave each other encouraging smiles. Only Ernie remained on the other side of the table.

 

It was incredibly awkward. In fact, it was  _ more  _ than simply awkward. No one said a word to each other (besides a few occasional mutterings between Hannah and Neville), and the rest of Hogwarts seemed to be very interested in what was going on at their table (or lack thereof). 

 

“Well,” Blaise drawled, motioning with his glass towards Hermione after a good twenty minutes. “Lovely weather, isn’t it?”

 

Harry stared up at the water droplets pounding down from the sky. The ceiling, was, in fact, a swirl of black and blue, the two colors mixing together in the storm.

 

Hermione smiled. “Yes, the sun is just sublime. Although, I must say, I am unaccustomed to seeing days with so little cloud. It’s rather anomalous.” 

 

Ron gaped at them. Parkinson picked at her green beans. Harry reached over for a bread roll. Draco took a sip from his glass. Tracey twirled her hair. Ernie stared at Hermione incredulously, looking betrayed. 

 

Blaise smirked. “Although, I presume the reasoning for any lack of clouds would be high pressure, which leads to no condensation. Is that really a good thing?”

 

Hermione seemed slightly shocked at the turn of subject. Her eyes widened slightly, before she recovered, speaking fastly. “Well, with high pressure, the air is sinking, so it’s warmed with compression, since air cools when it rises. So, then, theoretically, wouldn’t the compression cause the water vapor collecting in the air to vaporize?”

 

Harry had no idea what they were talking about, and he guessed that no one else at the table did either.

 

Blaise thought for a moment. “I suppose. High pressure is a rather fickle thing. It never seems to affect wizards, which makes me wonder about Muggles.”

 

At Hermione’s inquiring look, Blaise continued. “When I play Quidditch-”

 

“Oh, lword,” Ron said, finally speaking up. “Dwon’t feven het ‘ermione swarted abou’ Widditch.” A bit of mashed potato fell out of his mouth.

 

Hermione glared. “What did I say on the train? And repeatedly for the last few years? Why do you insist on talking with food in your mouth? Anyway, I don’t have  _ that much  _ to say about Quidditch. It’s just that - well, the concept is just abhorrent, isn’t it?  _ Anyone  _ with more than ten brain cells would realize the imminent hazards of flying around with balls rushing towards you at over 60 miles per hour! I can’t believe people even consider it! After all, what is there to be gained? Are men trying to desperately prove their masculinity, despite the fact that mabe savoring what life you have left is a much wiser choice that proves much more restraint than simply flying around on  _ deathsticks.  _ And, what more -”

 

“Ok,” Ron interjected. “We get it. You happened to mention your thoughts on Quidditch before. Quite a few times.” 

 

Blaise grinned devilishly. “I don’t know, Granger, you might like having balls flying at you one day.”

 

Tracey let out a laugh, leaning on Harry slightly. Hermione turned a little red. And with that, the tension eased a bit. 

 

“Don’t be crude, Blaise. And you know,” Parkinson said as she examined her fingernails. “I quite agree with Granger. Quidditch is rather distasteful, and I don’t see why you all get so worked up about it.” 

 

“See?” Hermione said, gesturing wildly at Ron. “And you say I’m the only one that -”

 

“Attention, everyone, please!” McGonagall said from the front of the room, cutting Hermione’s sentence off. “Please follow your house’s respective Head Boy and Head Girl, who will lead you to your dorms. Eighth Years - please stay behind. Schedules will be passed out tomorrow morning.”

 

Harry watched as the food, plates, and cutlery at the table vanished, leaving a small golden trail of dust that disappeared in seconds.

 

“I hope we’re next to the kitchens,” Ron whispered to Harry. “I’m bloody starving at night!”

 

Hermione snorted. “You’re always starving.”

 

Ron shrugged. “Yeah, that’s probably true.”

  
  


“Will you all please follow me,” McGonagall said loudly, then set off briskly to the right corridor, before pausing at the third door. “Within this door is a common room. Then, the dorms split off. Boys on the left, girls on the right. I have decided to mix the rooms between the houses this year to produce more interhouse unity. Now, since there are an uneven amount of girls and boys, and only three rooms, yes, some of you will have to room with the other gender. I am hoping that everyone here will be responsible and mature about it. Now, the rooms go as following: Room one, the boys dormitory, will be Mr. Macmillan, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Weasley. Room two, the girls dormitory, will be Ms. Patil, and by that, I mean, Padma and Parvati, if you will, and then Ms. Abbott, Ms. Parkinson. Which leaves room three, where Ms. Granger, Ms. Davis, Mr. Longbottom, and Mr. Zabini will reside. Are there any issues? And I want to mention, that if  _ anyone  _ is caught hexing or causing ill will of another in their room, that offender  _ will  _ receive severe consequences.”

 

Harry and Ron exchanged glances with each other. 

 

“ _ Malfoy?”  _ Ron mouthed. Harry pursed his lips and shrugged.

 

“ _ Guess so,”  _ Harry mouthed back.

 

He was too busy thinking about the year and the Slytherins and a little bit about whether or not he and his friends would be safe, that he missed the rest of Mrs. McGonagall’s speech. Before he knew it, everyone was making their way into their new home for the next few months. 

 

“Er… Ron, did she mention the password?” Harry asked, as they walked through the doorway. 

 

“Uh...” Ron thought for a minute.

 

Hermione sighed, but grinned nonetheless. “This reminds me so much of our other years. The both of you - never paying  _ any  _ attention. There isn’t a password. The spell on the door ensures that only us twelve can enter, however if you walk in while holding someone else that isn’t an eighth year, they can enter too. I heard about a spell like this once, when I was reading up for History of Magic, but it’s a little different, I’m not sure how..”

 

Harry tuned Hermione out as she started to list a bunch of different spells that could be combined. Ron, however, was listening raptly, although Harry guessed he didn’t have a clue as to what she was going on about.  _ ‘He wouldn’t do this for anyone else,’  _ Harry thought amusedly, remembering the time Ron had blown up at Snape for calling Hermione a ‘know-it-all’. 

 

The common room was minimal, with a few windows, and the walls painted white. There were two black couches in the middle around a small fireplace, a few desks and windowseats as well. 

 

Harry waited for Hermione to finish, then walked up to their new room with Ron. 

 

“It’s, uh, alright, I suppose,” Ron said. Harry nodded. It wasn’t too different from Gryffindor Tower, and at least now they didn’t have to walk up all those steps.

 

“Hufflepuff was much better. Also, I call any bed not next to  _ his,”  _ Ernie sneered, looking at Malfoy. 

 

Harry wanted to say something, anything about how Ernie should give it up already, but ended up deciding not to. Instead, he turned around to look at Malfoy, who looked a little miffed.

 

“What, Potter? Want to make fun of me too? Oh, let’s all hex Draco because he isn’t allowed to use his wand besides in classrooms!” Malfoy mocked.

 

“Er,” Harry said, mostly because he couldn’t think of anything else.

 

Ron sighed. “Sod off, Malfoy, no one’s here to murder you. I just want to sleep.” He plopped down onto the third bed to the right. 

 

Ernie laughed, although it didn’t hold any humor. “Guess I’ll be sleeping here then,” he said, gesturing to the bed on one side of Ron.

 

Harry stared at the two adjacent beds left, then at Malfoy, who cocked an eyebrow. 

 

“Scared to sleep next to the big bad Death Eater? Well, aren’t you quite the Gr-”

 

“Get over yourself,” Harry heard himself say. “Not everything’s about you. And if I did murder you, hypothetically, I would do in a dark alley in Hogsmeade, where it can’t be traced back to me. And don’t reply to this because I’m tired as well, and I want to sleep.”

 

Ron and him high fived before Harry got up to brush his teeth and go to bed. (Malfoy, for the most part, seemed rather stunned.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who finally updated after like 9 months

Harry groaned as he felt his wand vibrate (AN: Not in that way) underneath his pillow. He blearily cracked open his eyes, staring murderously at the few beams of sunlight peeking through the window. 

Sighing, Harry turned over to shake Ron. “Come on, you know Hermione will kill you if you’re late on the first day.”

Ron muttered something that Harry couldn’t quite decipher, although he assumed it was something similar to “Bugger off.”

Smilingly slightly, Harry fell into his old dynamic - Try to wake up Ron, fail to wake up Ron, Go to the bathroom, Brush teeth, Try to wake up Ron, fail to wake up Ron, brush his hair, get books, finally get Ron to wake up, wait for Ron, wait for Hermione, eat breakfast.

Too bad someone was already in the bathroom. Harry swept his eyes across the room, which lead him to realize Malfoy was in there. He wanted to knock, to say ‘hurry up’, but thought better of it, and sat on the wall in front of the bathroom. 

Malfoy walked out a little later, hair ungreased, with only a towel around his waist. Harry slipped into the bathroom after him, muttering “took you long enough”. 

He heard a thump from Ernie’s bed a while later. Harry turned to see Ron barely stifling laughter at Ernie, face an interesting shade of red.

“Oh, stop laughing, you bugger!”

“How - laugh - do you just - laugh - fall? The bed’s literally have safe guards on them!”

“You gonna try and tell me you’ve never fallen off the bed? I heard from Neville that once in fifth year Fred tried out his Screaming Snuggles with you and -”

“Shut up! I’m going to bloody kill Neville. Don’t trust anything he said! It didn’t happen!”

“Right.”

“Don’t give me that look! You’re the one that fell -”

“We already established that-”

“Off the bed and you have no right-”

“You have too and I have-”

Harry tuned out at this point and thumped Ron on the head. “I’m going down to talk to Hermione. Don’t take too long.”

“This is going to be a wonderful year,” Harry heard Malfoy mutter as he headed out the door. 

-

Hermione faced Tracey and Pansy when Harry and Ron got downstairs.

“Ron! Harry! You remember Tracey, right?” she asked as he came into her view. 

Harry nodded, as did Ron, and shook hands with Tracey, who smiled brightly.

“Hi! I feel like you don’t know me very well, but I’m pretty sure we had Potions together. Or maybe it was Charms. Wait - maybe it was Herbology. Or - nevermind, actually, but basically, I’m Tracey, as Hermione just said!” Her voice was bright with a little bit of a lilt at the end. It reminded Harry a little bit of Luna.

“Oh, well, uh, ok,” Harry said, congratulating himself on giving a perfectly eloquent first impression.”I’m Harry, and that’s Ron, uh, that’s, er, probably pretty obvious.Oh right, uh, I think it was Potions.”

“Oh, was it?” She frowned momentarily. “Snape was a git. I was hoping it wasn’t Potions.”

And in that moment, Harry decided that Tracey would be alright.

-

The schedules were passed out at breakfast, just as Mrs. McGonagall had said.

Harry stared down at his, glasses slipping a little down his nose.

“Oi, mate, look at this!” Ron said, pointing. “We actually have an interhouse unity class? And - oh! I completely forgot about NEWTS! Do you think I could drop potions? I know he isn’t at the head table now, but Dad says Snape is returning just for NEWT level potions.”

“Ron! You know how important NEWTS are!” scolded Hermione, from the other side of Harry. “Of course you can’t drop out of potions! That’s needed to become an auror, you know. And wow! They’re actually offering advanced arithmancy this year!” 

“Only you could be excited about advanced arithmancy,” Ron muttered under his breath, so that only Harry could hear.

Tracey and Neville walked over as well, along with Blaise (who pulled along Pansy and Malfoy) and soon everyone was comparing timetables.

“How many classes do you reckon we have with Ginny, eh?” Ron asked. “What if she does better than me! Mom would kill me.”

Blaise laughed lightly from behind Harry. “Just pull the ‘I-saved-the-fucking-world-from-fucking-Voldemort’ card.” Malfoy’s face shot up at Blaise as he uttered the word “Voldemort”. The table grew silent.

“Well, Ginny kind of contributed to that too, you know,” Harry said, trying to pretend like nothing had just happened. Voldemort was dead, Blaise was allowed to say his name without everyone acting like they had just seen the Grim Reaper. Plus, maybe he and Ginny hadn’t worked out - well, they didn’t know that for sure yet - but he would still be 100% up for defending her.

Harry supposed his schedule wasn’t all too bad. He shared most of his classes with Ron, and a few with Hermione. (He was secretly a little glad for the latter part. Advanced Arithmancy? Magical Astrophysiology? Who takes that, even?) 

“I can’t believe this, we only have one class together!” Ron was exclaiming to Hermione, who looked crestfallen, but not too surprised as well.

“It’s alright, Ron,” she said, a tinge of sadness seeping into her voice. “But just because we don’t have many of our classes together does not mean you can start slacking! In fact, we should probably start studying for NEWTS tonight…”

“You do realize it’s the first day of school, pretty much, right?” Blaise asked, sliding in between them as Ron groaned at the prospect of studying. Blaise peeked over at their timetables. “Oh,” he said, pointing at one of the classes written on Hermione’s slip of paper. “You have NEWT-level systematic Trans-healing as an elective too?”

Hermione’s face lit up. “You want to be a Healer when you graduate?”

Blaise looked sheepishly at the ground. “Er… actually, Draco and I both just randomly chose each other’s electives.” He looked back at Malfoy, who was the only one at the table actually eating. “So, yeah, thanks a lot, for signing me up for, uh, ‘systematic trans-healing’ and ‘advanced malediction defence’.”

Malfoy grumbled quietly as he set down his fork gingerly. “Says the person who signed me up for ‘Progressive Herbology’ and ‘Medieval Wizarding Arts Conjecture-Conjuring’.”

Meanwhile, Ron was asking Hermione about her electives. “I mean, wow,” he was saying. “That’s, wow. I just have study hall and Quidditch Tactics along with Harry. Wait, how are you taking more than one course during second period? I thought the time turner was destroyed.”

“No, see, I have them every other day.”

“Oh. Right. Uh, so what is ‘systematic trans-healing’?”

“Oh, yes, please explain, because I don’t have a clue either,” piped in Blaise.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “Well, basically, it’s incorporating transfiguration and healing. Since, sometimes you can’t heal someone, so a few years back, a wizard had a proposition that conceivably you could transfigure, for example, a shattered leg, into a healed leg. But evidently, since all transfigurations disperse over time, as long with the huge dangers of transfiguring a person, and the fact that only transfiguring part of a person is technically impossible, it’s all in theory.”

Harry looked confused. “Wait, what do you even study then? You just explained the entire thing.”

“Well, it’s obviously more complicated than that. There are variables, with different types of wounds and spells and body parts, so depending on the injury the success rate is different. And so you try to calculate the rates and find ways to improve them to make it a reality. Or at least closer to a reality than it is now. The professor is actually a retired worker from St. Mungo’s and I heard she’s been working on this conjecture for her whole life.”

Blaise let out a sigh. “That sounds incredibly interesting.”

Ron shot him a look. “I bet it is!” 

Hermione smiled at Ron’s indignance.

Blaise only chuckled. “Holy shit, you’re whipped.”

-

Harry’s first class was Potions, which filled him with unimaginable joy.

Whoever had started the rumours was correct. The eighth year teacher was, indeed Snape. Harry and Ron picked a table closer to the back, right behind Neville and Parvati.

“Well,” Snape said. “If you can count, which I do hope you all can do, you’ll realize there are seven people here. Which means that, in my opinion, you were, how do I say it… challenged by the previous years in Potions. This is the lower NEWT level. I will not be going easy on anyone, despite any, let’s say for example, extreme heroics.” He stared icily in Harry’s direction.

As soon as he looked away, Ron snorted. “Nice to see he hasn’t changed.”

Snape whipped back around, black cloak billowing slightly. “10 points from Gryffindor for unnecessary commenting during class.” He tapped the board with his wand, Words slowly forming across it. “Here are today’s directions. You’ll notice that this potion will be very hard for some of the less talented people here. Unfortunately, Headmaster McGonagall has not allowed me to fail anyone from this course within the first day, so anyone, yes anyone, even you, Mr. Potter, will find themselves having extra sessions of Potions each evening if you are unable to create this.”

Few hours later, Harry stared back at his cauldron, trying to compare it to his textbook’s picture of the finished product. 

Ron, on the right of him, breathed out slowly as he peered over his own potion. “Hey, Harry, do you think it’s a little abnormal that my potion is kind of green instead of yellow and has chunks in it?”

“Mine’s, uh, kinda red actually…” Harry replied, wincing as Snape walked by.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, I guess I’ll be seeing you both tonight.”

Ron covered his face with his hands, red hair peeking out through his fingers. “Ugh,” he groaned. “Now I wish Hermione was here to tell us how to make these! Guess it’s a no-brainer that she’s in the upper NEWT level.”

“Mr. Weasley! Another 15 points off for talking in class, again.”  
-

The next class for Harry - taught by the newly appointed Elra Jerhelie - was Transfiguration. Everyone in the eighth year was in the same class. Harry made his way and sat down next to Ron as their professor started to speak.

“Hello, everybody! And welcome to your final year of Transfiguration. My name is Mrs. Jerhelie, as you probably already know, and I’ll be your professor for the rest of the year. Firstly, a little about myself. I am from Australia, so yes, the weather differences are quite a shock. I grew up more towards the wilderness, but moved to the city to attend the Grouseo School of Magic. From there, I spent a few years in China studying up Transfiguration, before being offered this position. My favorite color is orange, I like dogs and cats equally, and I can play the violin. Oh yes - before I forget, Minerva has told me to notify you that each Saturday morning, you will have a new class. I, uh,” she looked a little awkward. “I’m aware there was a war, here, correct? Now, I didn’t really hear much about it back in China, but, I am sure it has affected you all, so they have arranged a new activity for you all to help the aftershocks of it. You may have seen it on our schedules already. Yes, it is mandatory. Now, let’s get started, shall we? After all, we do have quite a lot to cover. First though, I will be changing up some seats. I am aware that this class is divided up between four houses. I’ve been asked to promote interhouse unity here, so, let’s see…” She stared down at her clipboard. “I’ll just do this by last name. Wow - we have quite a few ‘P’s here, don’t we? Alright then - Abbott and Davis. Granger and Malfoy. Longbottom and MacMillan. Patil and Pat- wait. Er.. are you siblings?” 

Padma nodded. 

Mrs. Jerhelie continued. “Ok, guess I won’t partner you up then. Er, Padma, you’ll be with Weasley. Parvati, you’ll be with Parkinson. And then last, but not least, we have Potter and Zabini. Any problems?” (AN: I know I said it was by last name, but I got kind of confused once I got to the ‘P’s, so just pretend that it went perfectly.)

Everyone looked uncomfortable, but no one spoke up.

“Alright, please sit next to your partner and I’ll go over the syllabus.”

Harry grabbed Blaise and rushed to the seat behind Hermione and Malfoy. It seemed as if Ron had the same idea, since he and Padma sat down right in front.

“Well, Potter, guess you just have infinite luck. First - defeating the Dark Lord, and now - me next to you.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. He guessed Blaise wasn’t really that bad, and plus, Hermione had mentioned to Ron that sharing a room with Blaise was fine really, and he let Neville borrow his book on ancient Babylonian plants, so he just set his textbooks down and turned to face Blaise.

“Call me Harry.”


End file.
